I have always had a fascination for desolate landscapes, the bleak, the sere, the windswept. The first impressions are always of lifelessness, or at least the improbability of life existing on the forsaken ground. Such areas reward exploration, the setting foot past the stark foreground. Soon one sees there are signs, traces of life after all: the fantastically weathered husk of a juniper limb, the shed skin of a diamondback, the bones of a story… 



E-mail me:  promtbr [at] gotsky [dot] com